Page 20 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

Skylar watched the exchange, mind racing. The tension between them crackled in the air, threatening to ignite at any moment. She knew she should stay silent, but the words tumbled out before she could stop them.

“Your Majesty,” she began cautiously, “perhaps there’s a middle ground. We could increase security measures, demand concessions from Thorncrest without breaking the peace entirely.”

King Lyinell’s gaze snapped to her, cold and calculating. “An interesting suggestion, Duke Anathemark,” he said, voice dripping with false sweetness. “And tell me, how would you propose we do that without appearing weak?”

Skylar swallowed hard, feeling the weight of both the King’s and Arye’s attention. “We could demand that Thorncrest hand over any conspirators involved in the assassination attempt. Frame it as a show of good faith on their part.”

A slow smile spread across the King’s face, never reaching his eyes. “Clever,” he mused. “Very clever indeed. It seems your value extends beyond mere brute force, doesn’t it?”

Skylar saw Arye’s hand clench into a fist on his knee. “Father?—”

“Enough,” King Lyinell cut him off. “We’ll discuss this further at the palace. For now, we focus on damage control. Duke Anathemark, I want you to oversee the investigation personally. Find out everything you can about this plot.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Skylar replied, bowing her head.

As the carriage rattled through the streets, Skylar’s mind whirled with the implications of what had just transpired. The assassination attempt, the tensions with Thorncrest… and Arye. Always Arye.

The gravity of the situation crashed over her like a tidal wave. Her hands trembled as the adrenaline ebbed, leaving her feeling hollow and drained. She clasped them tightly in her lap, hoping neither Arye nor the King would notice.

If she had been a second slower, if the Gryphon hadn’t warned her…

The thought of losing Arye, of a world without his cutting wit and rare smiles, without the warmth of his gaze or the strength of his presence, left her feeling cold and empty. It was a void she knew she could never fill, a loss she could never recover from. The mere idea of it made her chest tighten, her breath catching in her throat.

“Get a grip,” she muttered to herself, so softly that even she could barely hear it. She clenched her fists to stop the shaking, looking out the window.

He’s safe. That’s all that matters.

And in a few weeks, she wouldn’t see him ever again.

8

Her boots echoed in the palace hallway as she struggled to keep pace with Arye. His long strides ate up the distance, making her feel like a child scurrying after an adult. Despite being only a head shorter, the difference in their gaits was stark.

“Your Highness,” Skylar hissed, her voice barely above a whisper. “A physician needs to examine you. Just in case.”

Arye didn’t slow. If anything, he seemed to move faster. “For the last time, Duke, I’m fine. You’re overreacting.”

His dismissive tone sent a flash of irritation through her. Skylar clenched her jaw, quickening her steps. The rapid click of her boots on marble became a staccato counterpoint to Arye’s measured stride. “With all due respect,” she said, each word sharp-edged, “ensuring your safety after an assassination attempt is hardly overreacting.”

They reached the ornate double doors of Arye’s chambers. Without breaking pace, he pushed them open, the heavy wood giving way with a soft groan. Skylar followed him inside, turning to close the doors behind them to ensure their conversation remained private. As she grasped the handle, a sharp twingeshot through her wrist. She suppressed a wince, not wanting to draw attention to herself. The latch clicked softly, sealing them off from the rest of the world.

As she faced the room again, her breath caught. Arye had already shrugged off his coat, tossing it carelessly over a nearby chaise lounge. His fingers worked at the buttons of his vest, revealing tantalizing glimpses of the crisp white shirt beneath. The fabric clung to his broad shoulders, hinting at the muscled form underneath.

Skylar’s mouth went dry. She’d seen Arye in various states of undress before—it was unavoidable given their years of friendship and shared battles. But this… this felt different. His movements were slow, deliberate, almost predatory.

She found herself captivated by the play of muscles beneath his skin, the graceful line of his neck as he tilted his head. The fading sunlight streaming through the tall, arched windows caught in his raven hair, turning the edges to liquid gold.

“You know,” Arye murmured, his voice low and tinged with amusement, “entering someone’s private chambers uninvited can be quite dangerous.” His eyes met hers, dark and intense, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

Her gaze darted briefly to the large, ornate bed dominating the far side of the room before snapping back to Arye. Skylar’s pulse quickened, a rosy tint rising to her skin. She forced a laugh, trying to mask her nervousness with their usual banter. “Oh my, I thought you preferred women,” she said, injecting a teasing lilt into her voice. “Am I ending up as your new bedtime companion?”

“Perhaps.”

The single word hung between them, charged with possibility. Skylar couldn’t see his face clearly; he stood backlit by the window, shadows playing across his features. But shecould hear the smirk in his voice, could picture the way his lips would curl at the corners.

She rolled her eyes, pushing aside the flutter in her stomach. Striding forward, she placed her hand on Arye’s shoulder, guiding him firmly toward the chaise lounge. “Stop wasting time, Arye,” she said, her voice huskier than intended. “This would’ve been over ages ago if you’d just cooperate.” She pressed him down onto the chaise. “Now, sit.”

Arye’s sharp intake of breath at her touch sent a thrill through her. For a moment, he remained perfectly still, tension radiating from every line of his body. Then, slowly, he allowed himself to be pushed down. His compliance surprised her; Arye wasn’t one to yield easily, even in jest.

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